


till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

by summerofspock



Series: why must itself up every of a park (the ee cummings cycle) [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Pon Farr, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rift between the First Officer and the Captain shows no signs of mending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

 

Spock works in the labs until well past 1900. He has done so for the last 15 days. Ever since the disastrous kiss on the bridge. It has forced a sort of cold war between himself and the captain. They no longer share their evenings in quiet companionship over dinner, or chess, or casual conversation. He tells himself he does not miss it, but he knows it is a lie.

An ensign hands him the slide he has requested. He barely glances at her. Rogers. Ensign Rogers. Her short blond hair reminds him of Jim. There is a low rumble and Ensign Rogers apologizes quietly before rushing away. Spock realizes the sound came from him. He had growled. He puts the slide on the table without thought. He is no longer required to be in the labs and had only stayed in a futile attempt for distraction.

Once he is back in the dry warmth of his quarters, he runs a tricorder over himself. It tells him exactly the opposite of what he was hoping for.

**

“Kirk to Spock.”

Spock rises from his meditation and answers the comm. “Spock here."

“I’d like to see you in my quarters.”

Spock closes his eyes and the fingers on his free hand clench into a fist. “Aye, Captain. Spock out.”

Turning from the wall, Spock brushes imaginary dust from his meditation robes and takes a deep breath. He has managed to avoid all off-duty contact with his captain for the last two weeks. It cannot have gone unnoticed, however, he did not expect to be confronted. _Kaiidth._

“What is this request for leave,” Kirk demands before Spock has even taken a step into his quarters. Immediately, his eyebrows raise of their own accord. Frustrated, he lowers them. He must have more control.

“I have amassed enough leave for three times the request. It should not cause any problems if you will simply sign the form, Captain.” Spock’s voice is strained even to his own ears. True to form, Kirk narrows his eyes at him.

 “Vulcan is light years away. We can’t take you there,” Kirk says, as if that is the final verdict.

“If you will allow me to disembark at the nearest starbase, I can find my own transit to New Vulcan,” Spock puts extra emphasis on _New_ , hoping to make Kirk feel as uncomfortable as he does.

“Unacceptable,” Kirk says simply, tossing the padd in his hand onto his desk. “The nearest starbase is nearly a day off course. The admiralty says we have to rendezvous with the Potemkin and we will rendezvous with the Potemkin.” 

“Captain, I must return to New Vulcan.” It is nearly a shout and it’s Kirk’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Suddenly smiling, Kirk leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. Spock illogically hates the way one corner of his mouth raises higher than the other. He wants to kiss him until that smile disappears and his eyes go glassy with lust.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Spock. Sounds important. If you can just explain it to me, I’m sure I can convince the admiralty to accept your request.”  Kirk gestures with his hand for Spock to sit down. Spock does not. 

“It is personal, Captain.”

“Oh. It’s _personal_. Not as if we haven’t shared other personal matters.” The innuendo in his words is unmistakable.

“You made it perfectly clear that you do not wish to mix our personal and professional lives. I am respecting that request. Now respect mine. _Captain_.”

“Fine. But I’m denying your request for leave. I wasn’t kidding when I said we have to make this rendezvous. The admiralty would have my ass if we missed it.”

Spock knows that tone. It’s something of an apology but it is not enough. He leaves Kirk’s quarters without another word and he knows nothing of the urgency of Kirk’s comm to Dr. McCoy.

**

“Spock please report to medbay.” 

This time the comm interrupts his sleep. Looking at the chronometer, Spock notes with something close to despair that it is 0717, seventeen minutes later than he had anticipated awaking. He is not as well as he had hoped.

“Spock.” Dr. McCoy repeats, waiting for a response.

Annoyed, Spock slams his hand against the comm button. “Acknowledged.”

He doesn’t bother signing off as he drags himself out of bed. His body feels heavy and the sonic shower does little to alleviate the ache in his bones.

“You wished to see me, Doctor,” Spock says coolly as he enters sickbay. McCoy looks up from the padd in his hand and smiles.

“Pick a biobed, Spock.”

“My last physical is still on file, Doctor. I do not require medical attention at this time.”

The smile disappears. “Captain’s orders. Now get your green ass in a bed.”

Spock weighs his options; he could ignore the doctor’s request and risk further inquiry or he could comply and risk discovery. He climbs into the nearest biobed and digs his fingers in the sides. McCoy hems and haws overs his readings. “Your blood pressure is abnormally high for a Vulcan,”  he says, making a note on his padd.

“A result of my hybrid physiology, I’m sure,” Spock lies smoothly. “Now if I may go…”

McCoy stops him with a look. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Spock, but Jim’s worried. You’ve got to tell somebody and I think I’m good candidate considering that I’m your doctor and there’s clearly something wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong, Dr. McCoy. Excuse me, I must get back to my duties,” Spock says gruffly, pushing McCoy out of his way. He miscalculates the necessary force and the doctor stumbles backward, nearly running into the wall, but Spock hurries out of the room before McCoy can pry further into his business.

**  


“Pon Farr? When were you going to tell me?” Kirk bursts into his quarters with no preamble.

Spock had given up trying to meditate over and is now simply lying in his bunk clad only in his regulation uniform trousers. He had found the feel of cotton against his nipples overly stimulating. He does not sit up upon Kirk’s intrusion, but his eyes fly open.

“You contacted my counterpart.”  It is not a question and Spock is proud of how flat he manages to keep his tone.

Kirk reads accusation in his words and bristles. “What was I supposed to do? You were being secretive as all hell and Bones said…” his voice drifts off. He sounds distracted. Curious, Spock sits up and sees the look on Kirk’s face. He looks...hungry.

“What did Dr. McCoy say?”

Kirk swallows. Spock watches the trail of his Adam’s apple as it bobs down and then back up. There is a bead of sweat forming on Kirk’s right temple. Spock does keep his quarters rather warm for a human. The drop slides down his cheek.

“He said the way things were looking, you’re dead within two weeks.”

“I requested leave.”

“You could die, Spock!”

There was no guarantee he wouldn’t even if he had been granted leave--T’Pring had disappeared with Vulcan and without her there was no relief for the fire sparking inside him-- but he does not say as much. It is evident that Kirk is experiencing some emotional upheaval and Spock does not wish to further agitate him. Instead he stands and replies smoothly, “Be that as it may, you had no right to interfere.”

Ignoring him, Kirk steps forward narrowing the space between them until Spock can smell the remnants of soap on his skin, the tang of sweat in the air. “The ambassador says you need to fuck.”

It is indelicate but Spock can’t deny the way his pulse quickens. “I cannot believe my counterpart told you that.”

Kirk smiles that lopsided smile. “Not quite in so many words. But I’m good at reading my Spocks. Especially the Ambassador. You know, I think he likes me more than you--”

Before Spock can stop himself, he has Kirk’s throat beneath his hand and Kirk’s body against the nearest bulkhead. Shocked, he releases Kirk who coughs and rubs his neck. “My apologies, Captain. My control is not what it should be. It would be best if you left.”

“Give me a sec,” Kirk says, holding up a hand as he leans over into a giant hack. “Look, I came here for a reason. Not just to get choked.”

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“If fucking will save your life, I can’t see why you can’t use me.”

 _Use me_. 

Spock’s skin prickles in disgust as his traitorous hormones rage in approval. Take him here. Take him now.

“I will not, as you so aptly put it, _use_ you.”

Kirk puts his hands on Spock's arms and rubs them up and down. A soothing motion, Spock thinks, but it only ignites his blood. He shrugs them off. “Don’t you get it, Spock. I’m willing.”

“Willing or not, you would find it...distasteful.”

“I think you should let me decide what I find distasteful,” Kirk says, suddenly all seduction. He steps closer. Despite his better judgment, Spock lets him.

“What did my counterpart tell you about pon farr?” Kirk smells like sunshine. Spock’s nostrils flare as he resists the urge to inhale.

The persona dropped momentarily, Kirk shrugs. “Just that your life was in danger. That you needed a mate. And something about salmon swimming upstream. He was pretty dramatic about it.”

It is Kirk’s nonchalance that finally shakes the spell. Spock pulls away abruptly and crosses the room. “You do not know what it means for a Vulcan to mate.”

“Then explain it to me.”  In typical Kirk fashion, the Captain follows him across the room and further invades his personal space.

“All control is lost. The emotions that Vulcans are capable of suppressing in their daily lives rise to the surface and dictate their behavior.  Furthermore, Vulcans are telepathic beings. Mating is not only a physical act, but a mental one. Two minds as one.”  The thought makes Spock ache.

“So you’d have to meld with me. That’s fine. We’ve done that.”

“It is not so simple,” Spock snaps, turning once more to face his Captain. Kirk involuntarily takes a step back and something in Spock delights in his retreat. _Yes, run away. Leave me. You do not know for which you ask._ “Vulcans, in the time of mating, form bonds with their chosen mate. These bonds are monogamous and sacred.”

Kirk’s mouth drops open. “So we’d have to get married?”

“I told you that the process would not be to your taste. Take me to a starbase and let me return to New Vulcan.”

“Can they stop this pon farr there?” Kirk asks, ever the curious mind.

Before he can compose a half truth, the words slip out. “There is no cure. If a suitable mate cannot be found, I will be made comfortable.”

“Let me get this straight: I send you home and you either marry some rando or your people let you die?” Kirk asks as he begins to pace the length of Spock’s quarters.

“A crude but accurate summary.”

“C’mon, Spock. Just fuck me,” Kirk whines.

It is too much for Spock in his state. “Leave,” he barks.

Kirk’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What?”

“Vacate my quarters. You disrespect me and my culture with your behavior. Leave.”

Kirk looks as if he wishes to respond when suddenly something flits across his face--something like inspiration. Spock narrows his eyes. “I said get out.”

Thankfully, Kirk complies.

**  


Time passes and as the symptoms worsen, Spock requests sick leave. If Kirk will not let him go, then at least he can have some peace, some solitude in his quarters. They have not even reached the rendezvous, but Spock begins to realize he does not know what day it is or what hour, he feels only the steady increase in temperature as his thighs begin to ache with it. Heat radiates from his core and he loses linear thought. He is a complex network of images and sensations. Fire. Dust. The sunset of Vulcan-Before.

And then there is only brightness like the scent of sunshine in a meadow, the blue of the sky a tangible other between him and the heat of his own desert. Jim’s face swims before his. He hears laughter. Tastes his skin and then nothing as the burning becomes coldness. He sleeps.

Spock wakes up in his quarters, his mind clear in a way it hasn’t been for weeks, he first thinks that he has overcome it. The pon farr did not affect him as he had believed it would. Perhaps his hybrid physiology…

Then he smells it. The thick scent of sex on the air. The sweet salt of semen and sweat. He does not smell like himself, he realizes as he investigates the smell. He smells like...Kirk.

The unwelcome realization prompts him to probe the recesses of his mind and there, unbidden, he finds it. The weight and shape of the newborn bond cries out to him. He comforts it before pulling back in disgust. He had warned Kirk. Spock wishes to caress this new thing in his mind, cradle it to him and nurse it to health. Instead, he withdraws, allowing himself to feel anger at Kirk’s complete lack of respect for his request.

“Hey there sunshine,” Kirk says as he emerges from the bathroom. “I take it you’re back with us.”

Spock springs from the bed, ignoring their shared nudity and slams Kirk against the wall. “How dare you?”

Kirk struggles uselessly against Spock’s full strength and when it becomes clear that Spock will not release him, he spits, “You were going to die!”

“I do not see why that is any of your concern.”

Kirk looks away and licks his lips. Spock loosens his grip and waits. “You’re my first officer and a damned good one. I couldn’t lose you over something as stupid as biology.”

Spock steps back and spits, “I did not wish it.”

“Come on, Spock. We can work it out. Worst case scenario, we figure out a way to live with the bond. It’s not like it has to change anything,”  Kirk approaches him slowly, his hands out as he tries to calm him. His words have the opposite effect.

“I do not wish to make this ‘work’ as you say. Retrieve your clothes and leave. After the rendezvous perhaps you can find time in the Enterprise’s schedule to take us to New Vulcan,”  Spock says, his voice thick with sarcasm. “There must be healers there who can remove the bond.”

“It can be broken?”

“A bond as new as ours can be removed. It will be unpleasant but it can be done.”

Kirk does not respond. He picks up his clothes and exits through their shared bathroom. The minute the door shuts behind him, Spock can feel a dull ache begin at the base of his skull. The coming days will not be pleasant. The bond thrums its pain through his body.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I Will Wade Out
> 
> i will wade out  
> till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers  
> I will take the sun in my mouth  
> and leap into the ripe air  
> Alive  
> with closed eyes  
> to dash against darkness  
> in the sleeping curves of my body  
> Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery  
> with chasteness of sea-girls  
> Will i complete the mystery  
> of my flesh  
> I will rise  
> After a thousand years  
> lipping  
> flowers  
> And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
> 
> PS this chapter was very NOT porny, but Spock was too out of it to be an effective communicator. the next chapter will deliver. i promise ;)


End file.
